Have You Killed the Spark Between You and Your Writing?

A Valentine’s Letter from Your Writing

I’m sorry, but it’s just not working between us anymore.

I’ve lost the feeling, and I haven’t been able to get it back.

It’s not you, it’s…well, yeah, it’s you.

You’ve killed the spark between us.

Me? You’re blaming me? Well, whatever. If that’s what you want to think. I guess I’ll pack my things and go.

What?

I can’t tell you if you’re not going to listen.

Fine. I’ll sit back down.

It’s just that, well, I think you’re expecting way too much of me.

1. You’re always talking about money.

You never mentioned that when we were falling in love, remember? We used to just enjoy being together, and there wasn’t all this talk about whether or not we’d make a lot of money. I know, we have to get by somehow, but why is it always up to me? Why can’t you do something?

You say you don’t want to be away, that you want to spend more time with me. Frankly, I’m feeling suffocated. It used to be we’d go have fun, sail off to other worlds, visit other people, and see where our dreams would take us. Now it’s all about whether or not we’ll earn money, and hey, let’s try this because it will sell.

Remember that time you slammed the door and left me alone because our last venture only sold 500 copies? And that was the one we had so much fun doing together. I’m tired of it. It just doesn’t feel worth it anymore.

2. You care more about what everyone else thinks than what I think.

I see you on Twitter all the time, and Facebook, and all those other things. Did they like it? Didn’t they like it? Oh look, this stranger in some far-off state liked it! We have to do more like that! Or crap, this one didn’t get any clicks. We’re not doing any more like that.

What happened to what I think? You never ask me. It’s all about clicks and likes and numbers on a chart. Then you want me to come up with more of what they’ll like. How am I to know? I only know what I like, what I’m drawn to, what I want to talk about. That used to be good enough for you.

3. You always expect me to make you feel good.

I used to like doing that, making you feel good. But it was easier then. I could just be me and you were happy. Now it’s like if I don’t do everything perfectly, you’re upset, or mad, or moody. I feel like I’m walking around on eggshells.

Sure, we still have good days. Everything flows, the scene wraps up with a bang, and off you go on a high. But the very next day, if it isn’t all fireworks and rainbows, you act like I did something wrong. You go around with this cloud over your head.

I mean, I can’t bat a thousand every single day, and who wants to spend time with you when you’re like that? You could take some responsibility too, you know. How about you try making me feel good once in awhile?

4. You want me to impress your friends.

I get it. We all want to walk into a room proud of the one who’s with us. And I’m proud of you. Always have been. But I’m feeling insecure lately.

I can’t control what your old high school buddy thinks of me, or your boss, or that stranger writing up the review. I’m willing to work with you to get better, and I always try to do my best, but you’re putting too much pressure on me.

It’s like if I don’t fit into a size two dress and make their eyes fall out of their sockets, you’re not happy. You used to think I was beautiful even in my sweats.

5. We never spend any quality time together anymore.

Yeah, we get a half hour, sometimes more, a day. But you’re always thinking about other things. I can tell. You think I can’t, but I can. Money most of the time, or the fact that you’re tired, or that you need to lose weight.

You try to figure out how to sell more copies of the last project we did, even while we’re supposed to be spending time together. You’re always distracted. It’s like I get maybe a quarter of your attention.

When was the last time we took a vacation together, you and I? Like that one time we stayed in that cabin by the lake. You were still stressed out the first day, but then you started to relax. Remember? We created three poems that weekend, and started the new novel. We haven’t done that in years. I suggested things, a few times, but you just ignored me. We didn’t have the money, or the time, you said.

6. You expect me to fulfill you.

I’ll admit it. When we first started going around together, I was flattered. You said I completed you, that I gave you purpose in life. I mean, who wouldn’t feel good about being told that? And I was fine with it for a while, but now it’s too much pressure. I’m feeling weighed down, like my feet are mired in mud.

The weight settles on my shoulders every time we sit down together, because I know if I don’t deliver exactly what you want, you’ll go off questioning everything. Then we have those arguments where you tell me you never should have gotten together with me in the first place. It’s like everything we’ve gone through means nothing to you.

If you’re going to leave anyway, I’d just as soon get out before you have the chance.

7. You expect me to lay the world at your feet.

Out of everything, this is the hardest one, because it makes me feel used.

I know you dream about fame and fortune, the New York Times bestseller’s list, and the Oprah book club. We both used to talk about what we’d do when that day came, how we’d celebrate by taking a trip around the world, how we’d come up with more and more books that everyone would love. But we knew they were dreams, then, and we were okay with that.

Now, it’s like nothing less will satisfy you. If I can’t deliver all that to your doorstep, you’re not happy. I try, believe me. I’ve tried all along. But it’s getting harder. You say it’s okay, but I can see it in your eyes, the disappointment. I don’t want to be a disappointment to you. Maybe you’d be happier with something else.

* * *

So, I guess that’s it.

I should go ahead, now, so I don’t bother you anymore. You deserve to be happy.

What? A weekend? By the lake? Are you sure you have time?

Yeah. I mean, I’ll have to juggle a few things, but…

Well, it is Valentine’s Day after all. A new start would be nice.

No cell phones? No computers?

Pen and paper?

We haven’t done that in awhile.

Yeah, okay. That sounds fun.

It would be nice to have fun again.

I would really like that.